


I was drowning but now I'm swimming

by lisa6



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Brother Feels, Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisa6/pseuds/lisa6
Summary: Ronan comes out to Declan.





	I was drowning but now I'm swimming

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I had lots of feelings for the Lynch brothers today.

"Oh, God," Aubrey sighed, her manicured fingernails dragging over the naked skin of his back. She arched up into him, moaning, when he curled his hand around the hollow of her knee to pull her leg up to his hip and pushed deeper into her. "Dec. Dec, oh."

Aubrey was a little bit older than him, somewhere in her late twenties, but she reacted to every thing he did with the intensity of a virgin. It had been easy to convince her to come up to his apartment with him after he and his friends had spotted her in the bar; she'd made eyes at him all evening, and Declan had noticed she'd popped two more buttons on her silky blouse when he'd eventually made his way over to her with two fresh drinks in his hands and his friends' good-natured taunts still in his ears ("Come on, Dec. She's older. No way in hell."). If Declan needed his ego stroked, she'd have been perfect. As it was, she bored him to death.

"You're so hot," Aubrey whispered, her breath tickling the side of his throat. She had brought her arms up around his neck, holding onto him as he continued to fuck her. Declan remembered liking the feeling of being wrapped in another person’s embrace; now it just made him feel trapped to be so uncomfortably close to someone he wasn’t emotionally invested in.

The alcohol in his system made him a little more uncoordinated than he usually was, but Aubrey was hot and wet around him, meeting his every thrust with one of her own. It was enough for the fire to spread slowly through his body, fizzling through veins and muscles.

"I'm close. Are you close?"

Declan hummed.

"That a yes or a no?"

Rolling his eyes, Declan let go of the headboard to hold her jaw between three fingers and tilt her head to the side. His hand followed the movement, palm pressing against her lips. Aubrey didn't mind; she kept on whining high in her throat and continued to grow wetter as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Somewhere in the back of his head, an unpleasant thought arose: Ashley would've chewed him out for being an asshole.

Just as Aubrey's breath hit the skin of his hand at increasingly irregular intervals and Declan could feel her walls tighten around his dick, he heard a vigorous series of knocks on his front door. Phantom pain throbbed in his skull and around his nose, stilling his body for a split second before he collected himself and pulled out of Aubrey's heat and pushed off of the bed.

"Dec?" she asked, confused, just as another knock echoed through the apartment. It wasn't nearly as deafening as it felt against Declan's eardrum, and he reminded himself of every single weapon he had hidden in all of his rooms as he searched the floor for his boxer briefs. "Hello? What's wrong?"

"Someone's at the door," Declan muttered while he pulled his underwear up, the fabric too tight and slightly damp against his skin. "Stay here."

Aubrey's eyes widened. "Is it your girlfriend? Oh God, please tell me you don't have a girlfriend."

Declan ignored her in favor of quietly exiting the bedroom and closing the door behind himself. He snuck through his open floor plan apartment to the dresser by the front door. As he opened one of the drawers and fished a gun out from between matching scarves and beanies and leather gloves, he was distantly glad for having forgotten to turn up the heating; at least this way, nobody would find his body already starting to rot after just one day.

Another knock.

Declan's muscles tensed as he loaded the gun.

Two knocks.

Images of his father's bandaged fists swinging at him flashed before his eyes, Ronan and Matthew's cheering in the background.

Another knock, this one more urgent.

Declan flipped the lock, and the door swung open to reveal a frowning Ronan standing on the other side. Declan's shoulders sagged as he opened the door wider.

"How long does it take you to open a door?" Ronan asked testily. He's just wearing a black sweater, black jeans and black sneakers.

"It's fucking December, Ronan," Declan said. "Wear a jacket."

Ronan gave his naked chest a pointed stare before he made the mistake of dropping his gaze and catching sight of his brother's erection. He grimaced as he pushed into the apartment.

"Didn't know you were busy." This was probably as close to an apology as Ronan was ever going to get, and it was still laced with contempt for his brother being a philanderer.

"It's three a.m. on a Friday. What did you expect?" He closed the door and dropped the gun back into the drawer before following Ronan to the kitchen. Ronan leaned against the kitchen island, drumming his fingers against the marble countertop.

"Are you into gunplay now?"

Declan huffed a laugh. "I'm not discussing sexual fetishes with my little brother." He paused to pick one of the clementines out of the fruit bowl, chucking it to Ronan who caught it smoothly, and then flashed him a mischievous grin. "Unless you need any tips, of course. Want me to give you the birds and the bees talk?"

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Ronan said, and began peeling his clementine. His long, pale fingers worked too quickly, and there was a flush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. That, paired with the fact that Ronan was here at all, for the first time ever seemingly voluntarily visiting Declan in D.C., was enough to worry Declan. Something was up, but before he could ask what it was, the door to his bedroom opened and Aubrey strode out in just one of his T-shirts.

"I'm not going to wait forever, Dec— oh. Hi."

Ronan didn't look up and instead made a face at his clementine.

"This is my brother," Declan said, nodding at Ronan and darting an apologetic look Aubrey's way. "His girlfriend just broke up with him. I'm sorry, Aubrey, but I think it'd be best if you left. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Ronan's icy glare had enough power to make a grown man shrink back, but Declan had had it directed at him enough times already that its effect was lost on him.

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry," Aubrey sighed.

"Yeah, I'm heartbroken," Ronan deadpanned, although Declan had half expected him to blow his cover. Aubrey collected her belongings and, on her way out, kissed Declan goodbye, which made Ronan roll his eyes, and then squeezed Ronan's shoulder in comfort, which made him sneer at her.

Once the door had clicked shut, Ronan turned to Declan, who was now peeling a clementine for himself. "What happened to Ashley?" he asked around a mouthful of fruit.

"She broke up with me."

Ronan cradled his chin in his palm, still chewing; he'd stuffed the entire clementine into his mouth. "So she's smarter than I thought."

Declan threw a peel at him. "Thank you, Ro."

He didn't get a response, so he settled for silence while he spun around to open the fridge and get two bottles of water out of it. One of them he kept for himself, the other one he rolled across the counter to Ronan, who picked it up and took a sip. Declan was still concerned about his brother turning up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, but he figured that if Ronan wanted to talk about it, he'd say something first. With Ronan, Declan found it difficult to choose the right words. Rather, he found it difficult to choose words Ronan wouldn't be able to twist and then hurl defiance at Declan.

It took Ronan several minutes until he finally drew himself up to his full height — Declan always forgot that they were equally tall now, even equally broad. Unlike Matthew, both of them had inherited their looks from their father; the same sharp cheekbones and jawlines, same chilling blue eyes, same Roman nose, same thin lips and dark hair. The only difference was that Ronan used his appearance to keep people at bay by faking matching pugnacity and unsociability in public, while Declan used his to his advantage, drawing them in by faking contrasting characteristics and a standard life.

“I’m gay,” Ronan said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as though they’d been stuck in there fortoo long. Declan's gaze snapped to him. Ronan's flush had deepened a little bit, and he was already getting defensive, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes in anticipation. Declan wondered if that was the first time he’d ever allowed those words out.

Declan knew this was important, so he went over different scenarios in his head, all of which were built up by different possible responses to Ronan’s admittance. In the end, his answer was simple.

“Okay.”

Ronan’s eyes shot up. “Okay?”

"Yeah," Declan said. "How long have you known?"

Ronan scowled. "It's not a _phase_."

"I didn't say that."

Ronan didn't follow that up anything for a moment, busying himself with the water bottle and looking anywhere but at Declan, before eventually mumbling, "Since I was thirteen or so. I didn't really _get it_ until two years ago, though."

"Two years ago?"

Ronan let out a low breath. "Parrish."

He knew Adam Parrish, of course. Well, he knew _about_ him. When he'd entered the picture the first time, Declan had paid a visit to Headmaster Child, who had often proved himself useful, especially if there was money to be made, and Declan had early on learned to be cautious and use his money and charisma to manipulate; he knew every grade Parrish had ever gotten and learned that he didn't have any friends besides Gansey and, by extension, Ronan. At first, that had seemed suspicious, because as much as Declan loved his brother, nobody except Gansey and Matthew willingly spent time with him — especially not someone like Parrish, who had everything to lose and didn't seem to enjoy Ronan's company very much half of the time.

But then Declan had gotten to meet him in person and every bit of distrust he'd had had quieted. Once again, Gansey had picked up a boy nobody wanted to be around and made him one of his. Parrish was just as aloof as Ronan, although his demeanor was completely different; he came across as withdrawn and quiet, but there had always been an edge to his voice and a calculating hardness to his eyes; it was creepy as fuck, but Declan trusted Gansey, and if Gansey trusted Parrish enough to keep him around, then he could be eliminated as a threat to the Lynch family.

"Parrish?" Declan asked, confused.

Ronan blushed harder.

And then it clicked.

" _Parrish_?" Declan repeated.

The glare Ronan darted at him was icier than ever, but there was something sad in it, too. "Problem?"

Declan thought of all the _A_ s he'd seen on Parrish's reports, the way he carried himself — calm and cautious, wary and self-reliant —, the unhesitating loyalty he'd extended from Gansey to Ronan, and the small, poorly concealed smile he'd brought onto Ronan's face at his birthday party when Ronan returned to the living room after hanging out with Parrish for a couple minutes upstairs.

"No," Declan decided, "of course not. As long as he's treating you right."

Ronan's eyes widened, horrified. "Oh God, shut up."

“You’re my brother, Ronan,” Declan said, as if that meant a lot to two brothers who hadn’t managed to spend even a few moments in the same room without ending up at each other’s throats. But maybe it did, because Ronan stood up and went to the bar in the living room. He got out two glasses, read the label on an expensive whiskey before shrugging and pouring it in until the glasses were half full. Declan watched him slump down onto the couch while eating the rest of his clementine, then made his way over to his brother and sat next to him. It was still cool in his apartment, so Declan was cold in just his underwear, but he didn't want to get up now to put clothes on when he knew how important this conversation was — and at least his erection had finally flagged.

He took the glass Ronan offered him and took a sip; Ronan downed his in one go.

"You don't—The Bible says— fuck. I mean, it's really not a problem for you?"

Declan went quiet for a long time. Eventually, he said, "I'm not religious. I know you are, and I know Matty is, and I know it's— it's our thing, kind of. Sunday service. It's the only time I ever see you. So. No, no problem. And it shouldn't be one for you, either. It's not, is it?"

Ronan stared at him, wide-eyed, then shook his head and averted his eyes to focus on his hands. "Not anymore. Sometimes it does, but. Yeah. No. But I wonder what dad would've said, sometimes."

Declan almost laughed. Out of all his sons, Niall had loved Ronan the most. It felt impossible to think of anything big enough to weaken that since their father had taken great pride in the fact that Ronan was just like him, and disliking a part of his favorite son was like disliking a part of himself. Niall had been too narcissistic and arrogant for that.

But Ronan loved Niall, and Declan wasn't usually cruel.

"He loved you. He wouldn't have cared."

Ronan regarded him for a long moment, rolling his empty glass between his palms. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end he just reached for the neck of the whiskey bottle and refilled their glasses.

"Is he treating you right, though? Parrish, I mean."

"Jesus fuck, Declan, shut up."

Declan shook his head. "I'm serious. I know you have this… _thing_ against casual relationships. You two are on the same page con—"

"Yes," Ronan hissed, the tips of his ears red.

"Come on," Declan said, lifting his hand to squeeze his brother's neck. "I'm your big brother. I need to make sure you're not dating the wrong guys."

"You lied through your teeth to get rid of a girl just half an hour ago," Ronan argued. "I don't think you're the right person to go to judge someone's character."

Declan rolled his eyes. "Stop deflecting. Tell me that Parrish is a good guy and I'll drop it."

Ronan hesitated for just a moment. "He's good for me."

That answer pleased Declan. He didn't need Parrish to be Gansey-level good, he just needed him to understand Ronan and be able to hold his own when things were getting rough. "Well. I'm happy for you."

Ronan groaned, though it sounded affected, and he didn't bite Declan's head off when he throw his arm around his shoulders to pull him into his side for a moment. Ronan was warm and solid against him, for once not buzzing with energy and nerves — instead he exhaled deeply, tiredly, and even grinned when Declan shoved the back of his head and stole his glass of whiskey.

"That's enough alcohol for today, you're still underage."

Ronan laughed. "I remember you sneaking off with Marita Zane and a bottle of vodka the summer you were sixteen, you know?"

"All I remember is her annoying little sister trying to flirt with you," Declan returned, then paused to think for a short moment. "A lot of things about you actually make sense now. Anyway, I'm getting the guest room ready. You've been drinking and I'm not letting you drive back to the Barns like that. Parrish would have my head if I let his boyfriend hurt himself."

"Dec," Ronan warned, which merely made Declan laugh.

They didn't go to bed that night; they drank the whiskey until the bottle was empty, the TV playing a Fincher movie in the background, volume low, just enough to act as filler when conversation became too exhausting and words were getting more difficult to get out. Somewhen — the sun had already begun rising and traffic were slowly filling up the awakening streets — they fell asleep on the couch, both wrapped up in warm blankets and Ronan's head on his brother's lap.


End file.
